Friends In High Places
by NiraDracoriaTheRanger
Summary: When our favorite Ranger is sent to to a world full of Dragons, Thread, and Firelizards, what is a boy to do?


Friends In High Places: Between

For all of you who do not know my name, you obviously haven't been to Redmont Fief. If you do not know what I am on sight, you obviously have never been to any of the Fifty Fiefs. If you have not ever heard the rumors about us whispered in the darkest corners of the dankest areas of our country, you obviously have never visited Araulen. By now you may be curious, just who and what am I? Well I will give you the simple version. I am a part of one of the most secretive organizations you will never hear about. We are the people every criminal has nightmares about. We are masters of cunning and subterfuge. Armed to the teeth, our weapons of choice are our bows, knives, and intelligence. On our trusted steeds, no one can outmatch us in speed or stamina. My name is Will, an apprentice Ranger to the best Ranger of them all, Halt.

Halt and I were recently sent on a mission to catch a group of criminals that branch off of a larger organization. The group we are going after is not all that large, 20 people at the most. This group is called The Subtle Knife. They are supposed to be a group of professional jewelry thieves, but from the sloppy track covering we found at the scene of the crime, they are obviously not as professional as presumed and was most likely blown way out of proportion. The funny thing is, we just reached a dead end.

Will's POV:

"Halt, I have checked the whole surrounding area and scoured the trees and underbrush for any signs of human disturbance. There are no signs of recent passing, except a few small prints, most likely mischievous children." Halt looked at me, grumbling under his breath about how 'no one could escape him' and that 'this just isn't possible.' Watching his grumbling, I stifle a laugh and pretend to be busy searching for tracks, though I know it is futile. I checked the forest up to the cliff, and there was no sign of human inhabitants.

Halt finally turned to me, sighing about how he 'was undefeatable' and 'the best Ranger ever.' Even I, in my endless amounts of optimism, could find nothing to say on the matter. Perhaps The Subtle Knife was as good as the rumors say. I sigh in frustration, and Halt looks to me is surprise "So for once your endless stream of questions ceases. What do I owe for this great honor?" I give him a dirty glance and kick a small stone at my feet. It flies into a nearby bush and I see a metallic glint brighten the bush fleetingly, but definitely there.

Looking around, curious, I approach the spot cautiously. On the bush, stuck in one of the branches, Is a beautiful necklace. The chain is soft and worn leather, while the hanging object was about as tall as my thumb and had a distinctive oval shape. Looking closer, without touching it, I see that it is a bronze sphere latched to the leather string by a silver hoop. Halt, drawn by my silence and position, looks at the necklace. He carefully removes it from the bushes' appendage.

After a moment of consideration he turns to me and gives me a small, almost imperceptible nod of his head. Almost bursting with pride I follow, heading straight for their small cottage. We had had to leave Abelard and Tug at the house because of the thick underbrush and the packed together trees. We swiftly make our way to the cottage where we take a small rest. Barely having broken a sweat, I go and fetch myself some water from the barrel, while also getting some for Halt (Because knowing him, he would probably shoot me if I didn't). Halt had given me the necklace for safe keeping, and it now fit snugly under my shirt around my neck. The bronze gleamed dully in the gloom of the coming twilight.

After grabbing a quick dinner, I finish all of my chores and collapse on my bed. I unlatch my Rangers' cloak, and set it on a small knob on the wall. Taking off my longbow, I grab my supplies and begin oiling it until it has a faint sheen. Having done my necessary things, I change into regular sleeping clothes and settle on my bed and close my eyes.

After several hours I reopen them and sigh, unable to fall asleep. Finally growling in frustration I throw off my covers and light a candle. I all but snatch the necklace off of my neck, looking for something to distract me. I look at it closely, seeing if there were any clues that might help, as unlikely as that might be. I let it hang, and in the candle light it spins, reflecting light onto the walls in peculiar colors. There were green, blue, brown, and gold chips of light scattered across my bedroom walls. I gasp in wonder and almost drop the necklace. I snatch it back into my hand, to see if there was anything that might tell me why it had done that.

Looking even closer, there were slight variations in color, as if it was a mixture of more than just bronze. There were also slight indentations and markings, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding metal. A glitter at the top catches my attention, and as I tilt it towards the light, the room once again bursts into color, but this time I'm watching the article in my possession. Said article was now, after having the light shine through the top, revealing figures inside of it, almost like a projection…

Gasping in realization, I try to rip off the top then thinking better, grab one of my knives. I pry the sliver clasp from around the top and shine the light through once again. This time the figures on the wall were more distinguishable, but still blurry and disconnected. I begin to twirl it in thought. How did it work? What was so see through in it that allowed it to shine through the metal. Then I looked up.

The lights were moving, and I realize I was twirling the bronze piece. I continue twirling it and the figures on the wall blend into one body, and there it moves, and shapes, probably wings, move up and down and then reverse as I twirl it back and forth. Only the light of dawn interrupts my wonderment, and I jolt, realizing I had no sleep whatsoever. Groaning, I put out the leveled candle.

I pull myself out of bed, sore from my cramped and hunched over position. I grab my bow and knives and head out. Passing Halt I tell him I'm going to give the forest one more glance over. Halt merely gives me a passing glance and a nod. I grab a quick cup of coffee and chug it down, savoring its rich taste for several moments before heading outside. I head over to the small stables and say hi to Abelard, who whinnies at my presence. Tug looks up at me expectantly, and I make a show of reluctantly pulling an apple out of my cloak, flourishing it, before giving a heavy (and fake) sigh of regret.

Tug eagerly takes the apple from my hand, ignoring my theatrics, and nibbles at my hand asking for more. I give him a pat on the head and a scratch behind the ears before telling him that I'll be back soon. I head down along a worn trail through familiar trees. I slowly make my way to the tracks, coming the way I had the other day. I am careful and make sure not to step near them, but always keep them in sight.

Finally I reach the place where they stop and sigh, unslinging my bow from my back. I move beyond them, towards a steep cliff where a river cut deep, about 200 feet below. Looking back into the forest, I approach the cliff side. Examining the ground, I hear a small snap. A twig has been broken. Ignoring it took all of my willpower. I pretend to casually look around, and look back down at the ground. I slowly move my arms within my cloak, slowly drawing out my Saxe knife with one hand, while my other gripped my bow steadily.

I hear the sound of heavy breathing behind me, of maybe 7 or 8 people. I can't take all of them out, so I set down my bow and draw out one of my throwing knives. I drop to one knee and make it look like I dropped something. Waiting for the correct moment, I wait only a second, seeing a flash, and I lunge. I throw the smaller knife at the man, hitting him squarely in the eye, while 6 others move to confront me. I know I have no chance of fighting and winning against this many people alone, so I do what I can. I throw the Saxe in the air, hard, and move my now free hand to my quiver. Two arrows found there mark by the time it was back in my hand.

The remaining four approach swiftly, almost within combat range. One breaks off from the group and turns, but before I can get a shot at him, the others strike. They come at me swiftly, barely making a sound. Gritting my teeth I grab my other throwing knife from my sheathe and prepare for them. Metal glinting in the sunlight, I instantly realize how bad an idea this was. Not only could they move quickly, but they were well skilled, and I was out numbered. Grinning maliciously, one of the men throws a rock at my head, and it misses my centimeters. I flinch slightly and hesitate, which was all he needed.

Cold grips my skin as the knife enters my side. Dripping blood, I try to ignore the impossible amounts of pain racking my body. Gasping for breath, I become sluggish, and it's not from blood loss. Glancing at my side, yellow liquid streams down my side and mixes with my blood, turning it a burnished orange, and I know I've been poisoned. Looking at my attackers, I find great amounts of confidence and malice, both of with I lack and one I wish I didn't. Suddenly I feel a slight pressure under my foot, then weightlessness.

This poison must be partly hallucinogenic because I feel like I'm falling. I see three faces peering down at me from high above, stained with shock and pleasure, and I realize it isn't a hallucination. I'm falling down the cliff. I look down and see the river looming close, and wonder what death feels like. I also imagine what it would be like after death. I imagine myself high in the sky, bright blue and white puffy clouds. Landscapes of green below me, rolling hills and giant forests, mountains in the not too far off distance, and the sun dancing on the horizon, soon to drown in the darkness of the night.

Suddenly, without warning, all feeling is gone. No sight, no sound, to touch, no taste, just a numbing cold. I felt drifting, weightless, and formless. Blackness weighed on me like a mountain, but alit on me like a feather. Finally, unable to understand, I wonder if I am dead. It is certainly not as nice as I had imagined. Without warning a freezing cold holds me in place, barely allowing me to breathe. Finally, the strain hit me; I fall deeper into the blackness, its folds wrapping itself around my unconscious form.


End file.
